


Lee versus Li

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Steve and Darcy are finally getting a first date, and Tony is a little too invested in the outcome. Bucky is uncomfortable with his new residence, Laura wishes hers wasn't under construction, and per the usual, Natasha can navigate spying, kicking ass, and home improvement simultaneously. Really, the only question that still needs to be addressed is: Lee or Li?  *Takes place 1/8/17 - 1/9/17





	1. First Things First

**Author's Note:**

> First date goodness - took long enough but I made it! Let me know what you think. There are more date chapters to come!

**January 8, 2017**

“A Chinese theater?”

Steve gestured for Darcy to take a seat in the back row before he answered. “Hold your judgment. This is a multi-phase date plan. Very complex.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt.” She smirked, unbuttoning her cute new red wool jacket. Ever the gentleman, Steve managed to juggle the popcorn and his drink and still help her out of her coat. They settled into their seats and Steve distributed the candy before Darcy spoke again.

“So I have to be honest here.” Despite the dark, cool stillness of the theater, whispering was not necessary. The only other people in the room were a couple of teenagers in the front row who looked and smelled like the were higher than the Chrysler Building. “When you suggested dinner and a show, this isn't what I was expecting.” She shifted a little in her seat and her shoes stuck to the floor. “Subtitles aren’t my usual go to, and my Mandarin is a little rusty. Although a matinee is cool – I haven’t been to one on a date since junior high. And fair warning, even though my dad drove us in his cruiser, Benji Walters still had the _cajones_ to try and kiss me afterward. It was really impressive. If he hadn’t eaten all my jujubees I probably would have let him.”

“I did spring for your own box of candy.”

Darcy turned in her seat to admire Steve in the low lighting. He was smiling. It looked good on his handsome face – although she had yet to see an expression that didn’t. If it weren’t for the way he was repeatedly smoothing his palm across the top of his thigh she would have believed he was just as relaxed as he was trying to appear. But he wasn’t relaxed – he was nervous. That was flattering and absolutely adorable. He wasn’t even half as bad with women as Bucky and Sam made him out to be, but he apparently didn’t know that.

“Oh, sure,” she nodded. “You get points for generosity. But Benji had to mow like twelve lawns to afford movie tickets, so I think as a percentage of income, he was the bigger spender.”

“That important to you?”

“In the grand scheme of things?” She shrugged and made a face, leaning against his shoulder unnecessarily to review the bucket of popcorn in his lap as if choosing the correct kernel required a lot of assessment. “Nah, not really. Originality trumps cost every time. And I have zero problem going dutch if that was understood to begin with. I mean, there were a lot of times in college when you brought your own drinks on a date – you know? And that’s cool, people have the finances they have and being the female in a relationship does not entitle me to free drinks or imply any sort of obligation for the same.” He was nodding and hadn’t tried to move either toward or away from the generous side boob she had snuggled up to his bicep. Darcy popped a single piece of popcorn in her mouth, watching how he followed the motion.

“I mean,” she continued after she swallowed, “I’m a modern girl, I always pack my own condoms.” Steve made a strangled sound of acknowledgment and Darcy had to fight a grin. “Everyone should be capable of taking care of themselves and expect others to be able to do the same, but the offer is still nice. Like, I’m always going to bring my own protection, cause that’s just smart, but if he planned for safety too that says something about how invested and responsible he is.” She leaned in again to speak in a stage whisper, “Benji didn’t even bring any gum for his breath. Seriously? He was never going to get any sugar with that kind of game.”

“So fourteen year old Darcy,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen year old Darcy broke poor Benji’s heart because he ate your candy and tried to kiss you with popcorn breath.”

“Uh,no. Thirteen year old Darcy broke Benji’s nose after he told all his friends he had gotten to second base with me. I didn’t get a lot of dates after that, but his class photos were ruined with two black eyes and according to Facebook his nose is still crooked.”

“Sounds like he got what he deserved. A gentleman would never besmirch a lady’s virtue – lie or not.”

“Besmirch? Oh my god, you are such a dork.” Darcy pushed gently at his shoulder. “I did get to see a Jack Black movie – which was a formative part of my youth. I think I listened to the entire _Tenacious D_ album like a thousand times that year. So, moral of this story? I am cautiously optimistic about your game plan here, but you’ve been warned about my standards.”

His eyes were crinkled at the corners like he wanted to laugh but he managed to hold himself down to a smile. “Don’t eat all the snacks. Be prepared to pay. Bring condoms but don’t expect to get to second base. Are those all the rules?”

“Excellent listening skills, soldier.” She reached for another piece of popcorn and tucked her hand over his elbow on their shared arm rest. The lights began to dim, casting him in the flickering glow of the warnings to keep their feet off the seats.

“First time I took a gal to the pictures was to see _The Man Who Knew Too Much_. Bucky set up a double. My date _and_ his held Buck's hands through all the scary parts and I ended up walking home with my neighbor, Gertrude Akheimer.”

“Was she your age?”

“Couple years older.”

“Whoo-hoo. Sounds like you got the better end of the deal. Older woman, walking home after dark. Did you get a kiss out of it?”

He snorted. “Yeah, actually. We got harassed a couple blocks from the theater. Three guys. I got in maybe one or two hits before Gertrude smacked one with a brick and kicked another in the, uh, balls.” Darcy chuckled at the blush darkening his ears. “She mothered me the whole way home. Kissed me and called me a brave boy. I’d never been so embarrassed in my whole life.”

“Was it a good kiss?” The intro credits had started and Darcy had to lean in against him to make certain he heard. It had nothing to do with enjoying the feeling of his body heat against her. At least, that was what she would have said if anyone asked.

His head was turned forward, but Darcy didn't miss the ways his eyes cut to her. “It was on my forehead – she was a half foot taller than me. And her breath smelled like cigarettes and licorice.”

“Don’t worry,” she whispered back, close enough that her words ruffled the short hairs above his ear. Her lips tingled with the urge to press them against the hinge of his jaw. “I brought gum.”

The blush spread down his neck and his lips quirked in a smile. “Shhh. I’m trying to watch the movie.” Bruce Lee came into frame on the big screen and Steve’s fingers threaded through Darcy’s.

“Yes, sir.”


	2. Jeet Kune Do

**January 8, 2017**

 

From an inconspicuous corner in a coffee shop across the street from the bar where Wanda was working, Natasha watched the surveillance feed on her tablet and made a phone call to another asset. He answered on the first ring.

“Luis,” she stirred milk into her tea, keeping an eye on the other customers around her, “what did you find out about the street dealers?” Her tablet chimed as a new message popped up in the corner, overlaying a portion of the surveillance on the screen.

_From ChemicalQueen: He’s decided to rip up the kitchen floor too. Help._

Luis took in a deep breathe. “So I was the waiting room to see my acupuncturist, ‘cause I got this real serious carpal tunnel issue, you know? And surgery is way harsh on the body, Ninja Lady, and my body is like a temple and-”

Natasha typed quickly.

 _You could have stayed in the apartment._ _You chose to live in another house older than electricity._ _You bring this on yourself._

 _From ChemicalQueen: Clearly I make poor life choices._ _Please help._ _He wants tile._

Natasha tried to point out the practical.

_Tile is good for cleaning up blood._

“-homepathy. Which is why I raise my own herbal remedies. I mean, some of them have, like, an incidental monetary value, sure, but Martha says you gotta use fresh cumin on roast chicken and she is no joke. That shit is the bomb. I will make it for you some time and you will be like, ‘damn, Luis’, and I’ll be all ‘that's right’ ‘cause the proper balance is like a culinary and spiritual melding that effects your brain for real, girl. The mind is-”

_From ChemicalQueen: That’s what he said! But it’s hard on my back._

_Stop having sex on the floor._

_From ChemicalQueen: I wish. Too much baking while carrying the world’s chubbiest toddler._ _But seriously, what do you think about hardwood?_

On the screen, Wanda got a slap on her ass as her date headed to refresh their drinks. Her harsh whisper came in clearly through the comm, “ _Shchurnyy bastur! Y_ _a_ _zlamayu yoho ruku, yakshcho znovu torknetʹsya moyeyi dupy_!”

Natasha muted her phone, letting Luis continue his report uninterrupted. “I told you to stretch properly first, Witch. You need to dodge, glide. If you break anything he won’t want to take you to bed.” Wanda was maintaining the slightly tipsy and coy expression they had practiced, but her body language screamed tension. Luckily the mark was distracted ordering his fifth shot of vodka.

 _From ChemicalQueen: He’s eyeing the family room now._ _!!!????_ _HELP ME._ _If not now, then when I inevitably have to hide his dead body._

 _Hardwood can be expensive._ _Dark shows scratches, light shows stains._ _Also, pine is ugly._

Wanda tapped her fingers against her mouth so no one would see her talking into the comm and played with her phone.

“If I am such a terrible pot of honey, perhaps you should have taken point.”

Natasha flicked through a few different camera angles as Wanda found a seat. “I’ve had a few run ins with the Czechs, in another lifetime. Better not to take the chance someone might recognize me. Besides, Havel prefers his women a bit less...mature.”

“ _Khvoryy ebe_ t,” Wanda spat, but that was the moment Havel returned with their drinks.

“It’s the same in Czech and Sokovian,” Natasha advised her quickly.

“Very bad words for such a pretty girl.” He was frowning.

“Oh,” Wanda pouted and gestured with her phone. “My friend Nina is out with a new boy and the things he asked her to do! I texted her she should come here instead. I am having much more fun.” Havel smiled and relaxed into the couch next to Wanda, ready to continue his efforts to talk her into going home with him.

Satisfied Wanda had things under control, Natasha unmuted her phone.

“-through the thick of it, you know what I’m sayin’? Prison can do that to you. Like me and my boy Scott. So they got this like real deep bond, like sisters but not by blood, and they can just like tell, you know? Like they know in their bones when something isn’t right with the other one. Like when my Uncle Bob knew my Dad was getting deported. So when Jesusa calls me and says, ‘Luis, my girl is going to make a comeback’ – she’s got the media by their metaphorical balls, I listen. I just wish I had bought more. My Omnimedia stock went through the roof, yo. So I feel like we have our own kind of bond, not like sisters, but maybe like cousins - once removed or something and-”

_From ChemicalQueen: Cork?_

_Pros - Sound dampening._ _Easy on back._ _Cons - Gouges._ _Cleaning?_

“Havel!” Wanda laughed and slapped at his shoulder. “You are so naughty!”

“But I am so good too, pretty girl. You just don’t know me well enough yet. Why don’t we go somewhere quieter where we can talk?”

Natasha quickly copied and pasted a link into her messenger.

 _Reclaimed flooring._ _Craigslist._ _Negotiated $200 off if you pick up._

 _From ChemicalQueen: He thinks its too rustic._ _Says he wants...encaustic?_ _One sec. GTS._

“Well, I don’t know.” Wanda was playing hard to get, just as she and Natasha had discussed. “I told my friend Nina I would be here all night.” Natasha dropped a tip on the table and slid out of her chair, phone still up to her ear.

“-antique sideboard. But it turns out it’s called a Hoosier cabinet, like the basketball team. Which is pretty dope, and in mint condition it can go for like a couple grand, and this one has some serious sentimental value. And I am all about the history, you know? You gotta protect that deeper meaning. So I say to him-”

 _From ChemicalQueen: Jesus. Costs more than my degree._ _That stupid dog is just going to get mud on it._

 _From ChemicalQueen: He grew up in a fucking tent._ _Thinks floors are clean as long as there aren’t any peanuts on them._

_From ChemicalQueen: He really wants this._

_From ChemicalQueen: Goddammit he’s giving me the eyes!!!_

“Why don’t you tell her to meet us at my place?” Havel wrapped his arm around Wanda’s back. “We can order some food and talk. Make it a little party. You like Thai, or maybe sushi?”

“Okay, that – that sounds fun. Give me the address and I’ll text it to her.”

_From ChemicalQueen: The EYES! That’s how I got Lila!_

_From ChemicalQueen: He’s sticking out his lip!_ _Save me!_

_From ChemicalQueen: He’s flexing -you know what that does to my resolve._

_From ChemicalQueen: This is how he got me to marry him!_

_From ChemicalQueen: And Nathaniel!_

Natasha stepped out of the coffee shop and across the frozen slush in the street. She clipped on a bluetooth earpiece and slid her phone into her pocket. In her right ear was Wanda.

“Should Nina just text me or is there an intercom at your building?”

In her left ear was Luis. “-John Frieda. He got me a number for this guy that works in San Fran. Which is crazy, right, ‘cause it turns out he roomed with my second cousin in juvie on account of a misunderstanding regarding some Chinese cinema and-”

With her newly freed hand she pulled out a jimmy bar and with the other she opened a second message window on her tablet. She set it on the hood of an ostentatious yellow Hummer while she typed.

_Go get the wood floor from Craigslist and I’ll babysit next Saturday overnight._

“Okay, Havel, I’m ready. You said you have a car here?” Wanda was standing up, putting on her thin leather jacket over a backless top. Excellent for catching sleezy men, not so good for January in Philadelphia.

_From FarmerBrown: Two Saturdays._

Natasha was prepared to negotiate.

_One overnight and an afternoon out with kids._

The lock popped up and she slipped a small electronic device under the steering column, blocking the alarm and gps signal. She grabbed the tablet and shut the drivers door.

_From FarmerBrown: Overnight, afternoon, and you watch the dog._

Natasha slipped into the backseat and relocked the vehicle.

_Don’t push it. I know where you sleep._

The reply was immediate.

_From FarmerBrown: Making an appointment to pick it up ASAP. Have a nice evening!_

The tablet fit into a special pocket inside her coat and she crouched into the shadows, watching Wanda and the handsy Havel exit the bar and turn toward his vehicle. Idly, she wondered how Luis would do in a tear gas situation. The man had tremendous lung capacity.

“-just like the one her mother had when she was a little girl. So we swap recipes, she makes a mean snicker-doodle, and tells me her grandson has been real put out ‘cause this new Asian gang has been sellin’ on his turf. Some of his boys were roughed up and he needs to get some face back on the street. I tell her he needs to try some breathing techniques, you know, learn to actualize and meditate on the success he wants in the universe. And she says she don’t know about that, but that this _Sunday_ shit the Asians are selling is like the crack cocaine of the new decade – know what I’m saying? And I agree and give her a plate of Dave’s meringue surprise bars, the surprise is completely medicinal, and she sends one of the neighbor kids around the corner to pick up some tabs for us. So I have a list of dealers in California and six samples of _Sunday_.”

“New York?” Wanda was only a half block away, smiling, shivering, and telling Havel she would need something to warm her up. Natasha didn’t have much time.

“Definitely, Ninja Lady. And you know I am working it. I already left a message with Kurt’s sister’s ex-boyfriend and when-”

“Good work, Luis.” Natasha disconnected just as Havel opened the door for Wanda, letting his hand linger on her sparkly tights just below her mini skirt. When he got in, he was quick to turn over the engine and lean across the console with a slick smile.

“Now that we have some privacy-” He sucked in a sharp breath as Natasha’s knife pressed into the base of his skull. Natasha could never understand why Steve always looked so overworked. He just needed to learn to multitask better.

“Hello, Havel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this wasn't too difficult to read, but I love the idea that Natasha can easily handle multiple problems at once. And Wanda seems to be taking to her undercover lessons well, don't you think?


	3. Second Things Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More 1st date! I have a whole headcannon about Darcy to explain why she was still interning for Jane in London, and this touches on that backstory a little bit. Also, first kiss, so...yay!

**January 8, 2017**

 

“I totally did not see Wuman ‘fessing up to Bruce Lee’s character,” Darcy said as they threw away their trash and left the theater. “I mean the whole seduction scene – sure. But then I kind of figured it would be a trap for Lee. Like she would sex him up to get him tired-”

“Getting him alone to drug him would be smarter,” Steve interjected. It was cold outside, but before Steve could think of a way to offer to pull her closer, _purely for her comfort_ , Darcy tugged on a pair of ridiculous striped mittens and tucked her hand through his arm. He was surprised he had followed the movie plot well enough to discuss it with her. Darcy was distracting on any day, but in a dark room sitting right next to him she was hell on his concentration. It had seemed that every time he had gotten drawn into the film, Darcy had shifted against him, or squeezed his hand, or brushed her fingers against his in the popcorn bucket. He hadn’t been so aware of his own body since the his first day with the serum.

“Ha! You _have_ been hanging out with Natasha a lot. Wuman was beautiful, but she’s no Widow. After Lee was all wonky from the sexing, I thought for sure it would be a knife to the back – or maybe she’d call in the _Big Boss_. I mean, I guess this was redemption or something for her character – even the prostitute seeks justice for the good guy, but-”

Steve tuned out for a few minutes. He should have been ashamed of that, his mother had raised him better, but her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright behind black frames. The sun had already set, making the dirty slush on the ground appear cleaner, the city quieter. This, he was pretty sure, was what it was supposed to be like. Walking down the sidewalk with a beautiful woman. Healthy, stomach full, knowing that his friends were all safe. He never thought he would get that.

“-Steve. Earth to Steve.” He snapped back to attention, a guilty flush warming the back of his neck. She laughed. “Usually guys do a better job of at least pretending to pay attention – especially on the first date.”

“I just...this is nice.” Steve winced. That was not what he had wanted to say at all. Darcy pulled him to a stop, her face serious, and he tried to prepare himself for worst case scenarios. _Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen, able to stop good times just by opening his mouth_. She was studying him, looking for something in his eyes that he was pretty sure wasn’t there. At least he was familiar with disappointing his dates.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Ah, I, well, yes but-”

She tugged sharply on the leather sleeve of his coat, making him forget whatever stupid explanation he had been formulating. Her face was close. Her lips were shiny and soft looking, even more than usual. He could smell the faint mint of her candies and something light and powdery like perfume or soap.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, ah, yes, Darcy?”

“You’re really tall.” He just nodded. He really wanted to kiss her, but they were still a block away from the restaurant and hours away from saying goodnight, and there was her story about that date when she was thirteen and- “Steve. You have to be willing to meet me halfway here.” _What? Oh. Oh._

Her lips were soft. And then she licked into his mouth – just once, quickly, and she tasted like popcorn oil and chocolaty mints and heat. Then she was pulling away, smiling even wider than before.

“Thank god Benji Walters didn’t have your game. My dad would have lost his badge for threatening a minor with a shot gun. So. Dinner?” She pulled him back into the flow of pedestrian traffic and he let her. Whatever situational awareness had been injected into him by Erksine and reinforced by the Army scattered. He didn’t remember the rest of the walk or reaching the restaurant, instead replaying the wet swipe of her tongue and her husky voice. _Fuck Bucky. And Sam. Twice. I am good at dating._ There was a suspiciously Natasha-sounding voice in the back of his head that suggested it might be Darcy who was good at dating, but Steve choose to ignore it _._

“ _Yáuh mātyéh yéhsihk chēutméng gah_?”

Steve came back to himself at the unfamiliar language and stared at Darcy. The owner had come out personally to seat them, although she had a much younger waiter with her, and seemed delighted by Darcy’s Chinese. Steve was too shocked to be delighted. They had a rapid-fire exchange and many smiles before Darcy stood up.

“Come on, they’re moving us to a better table.”

Steve thought they already had the best table – Tony had made the reservation for him. “Are you sure? I’m fine if-”

“Don’t be rude, Steve.” Then she winked at him. Winked. Steve let out a huff that was both laugh and frustration. There was no getting around that Darcy was gorgeous, smart, and fearless. _A great kisser._ She was also an infuriating wise-ass at least a third of the time. Including when she was sleeping. Maybe more. For all he knew she talked in her sleep too. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that there weren’t enough words in English for as much as Darcy had to say; she had to learn another language too.

The owner was spry for a lady of her age, and led them up a narrow staircase to a small balcony that overlooked the restaurant. They were given one of the two tables there. She waved off the waiter and then gestured to Steve while speaking with Darcy. He made out his name, and a few words he thought were entrees, and then the owner was bowing and disappearing back downstairs to leave them alone.

“I thought you said your Chinese was rusty,” he said wryly.

“That’s my Mandarin. This is Cantonese. I’ve always been better at it, although I can’t write anything but my name in either language and I can only read the basics in Cantonese. Bathroom, Exit, Police, Bar, For A Good Time Call – you know, just the essentials.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and Darcy grinned. “Impressed?”

“Terribly.” The waiter came by with water and hot tea before leaving them again. “Why Cantonese?”

“Sheryl, that’s my step mom, filmed a sci-fi series in Yunan Province right after she and my mom got married. When they signed her for seasons two and three, mom enrolled in graduate courses at Kunming University so we could all live together. That was right before I turned six. We stayed until I was nine – _Agent None_ was canceled when Sheryl dropped her contract for a movie deal in the States. I was like, the dumbest kid in Chinese school because my characters looked like I dipped a cricket in ink and then let it hop on the paper, but once we came home I got to skip a grade due to my math genius. It was actually kind of shitty. And Cantonese is not really useful, career-wise, given that the People’s Republic is all about Standard Chinese. I do occasionally find out about the best hot pot, though. Like tonight.”

“So your mom-”

“Is a lesbian? Yeah.”

Steve smirked. He might have grown up during the Depression, but that didn’t mean he was unaware of the modern world. “I was going to say, is a professor?”

“Oh,” Darcy had the grace to blush a little, “yeah, sorry. Um, she teaches System Security and Aggressive Cyber System Defense at UCSD.”

Steve made a mental note to look up what that meant later. While he wasn’t unaware of the modern world, he also wasn’t ready to turn a first date into a ‘teach the frozen guy’ lesson. “And your step-mom? She’s an actress?”

“Uh-huh. Huge fan of the Black Widow, too. I have avoided so far telling her that Natasha has an apartment in the same building where I work. The demands for a photo would be non-stop.”

“And your dad is a cop?”

“Deputy. Uglier uniform but he gets to take the car home – so score one for free transport.” Darcy checked to see if the tea had steeped enough and then poured for both of them. “And since we’re doing first date stuff...your mom was a nurse, right?” He nodded. It had been nearly ten years, for him, since Sarah Rogers had died. He was able to talk about her much easier than Bucky could about his folks. They had been alive when Buck was drafted.

Darcy continued, “So was the job then similar to now? Long shifts and less respect than she deserved?”

Steve chuckled. “Pretty much. And people didn’t go to the doctor then like they do now. Not just because it was expensive, but that was a lot of it. We always seemed to have somebody stopping by the apartment because they had a rash or a cough or needed a midwife. Ma delivered more babies than any doctor at Brooklyn Hospital Center, I’m pretty sure.” He was prepared to talk about his father, but Darcy surprised him.

“And did she want you to go into medicine?”

“Not that she ever said. Probably a good thing. As much as I liked pulp novels, science was never my strongest subject. Now Buck, he had a real head for it. Math too. Probably why the Army made him a sniper.”

“So what was your favorite subject?”

The food arrived, hot pot – which apparently the owner had recommended. There were different kinds of meat and vegetables and a self-contained little cooker of broth and noodles. Darcy encouraged him to try all the different sauces and half-way through the meal he figured out why she had ordered it. She could take one or two bites of everything and leave the rest to him without making it obvious to the staff he was eating three times what a normal person would. It was more insightful and considerate than he had thought she would be, and that assumption made him feel guilty. It was just that Steve worked pretty hard, when he was out in public, to not stand out. Darcy seemed to have figured that out on her own, not mentioning that he left his hat and sunglasses on until the were in their theater seats or at the restaurant booth and ordering family style so he wouldn’t look like a food vacuum.

They stayed for over an hour, and Steve was surprised at how much time had passed when the check came. The conversation never fell flat, and not just because he was certain Darcy could talk to a cement wall, but because she listened too. She waited to hear what he had to say and asked questions he didn’t expect.

“This has been really fun,” she said with a smile as he helped her with her coat.

“We’re not quite done yet. Unless you’re ready to go home?” He waited with less trepidation that he had expected, but with Darcy he needn’t have worried.

“Oh right,” she said, leading the way outside and waving to the owner on the way out. “The infamous three-step date plan. Well, who am I to stand in the way of that? Lead on, McDuff.” He relaxed fractionally and hailed a cab. As soon as they were seated she dropped a fortune cookie in his lap.

“Eat it all before you read it, those are the rules.” She was already crunching through hers and Steve followed her instructions, wondering if their next kiss would taste like sweet wafer and not finding it in himself to feel presumptuous.

“Your patience will be rewarded with passion,” she read off the little white paper. Steve nearly inhaled cookie dust. “What’s yours say?” Her eyes were sparkling and her smile crooked in a way that made him think she might have altered her fortune slightly. He took a risk and didn’t even look at the slip.

“Silence is Golden.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let me see that.”

“Absolutely not, Miss Lewis. That would destroy the sanctity of the fortune cookie. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He quickly folded it and stuck it in his jeans pocket, relatively sure that not even Darcy would go after it.

“Hm. Interesting tactic. You better hope Stage III makes up for this.” She leaned into his side, shivering a little so that Steve felt justified in wrapping an arm around her.

“Don’t worry. I have a backup plan too.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, Steve Rogers.”


	4. Fist of Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GlynnisIsta8 requested Sam's POV, so I gave it a shot. He just seems so long suffering. He's doing the right things for the right reasons, but as the most normal person in the group, he's got to see the knife edge of insanity clearly - right? Let me know what you think!

**January 8, 2017**

 

After dropping off his bags in one of the guest studios and washing off a day of travel, Sam wandered into Stark’s kitchen to find Vision and Barnes in a spirited discussion. As spirited as an android and his fleshier but somehow no more expressive cyborg teammate could be. Whether it was because Vision didn’t show much emotion or because he was basically indestructible Sam wasn’t sure, but either way Barnes had warmed up to the purple guy pretty quickly. Warmed up meaning that he spoke more than one word responses. It was a good thing. For Barnes’ part, he needed to feel accepted by the people he was working with. Accepted by _someone_. Sam would guess Vision’s easy manner brought the total of people Barnes felt mildly comfortable with high enough that he’d have to use both hands to count them.

Whether it would make the situation with Stark worse was a tossup. Either the billionaire would feel hurt and betrayed that his creation liked the man Stark felt murdered his parents, or he might give Barnes a second look if the objective and logical Vision found something worthwhile there. Despite Steve's eternal optimism, Sam gave it a 60/40 chance of ending in disaster versus peaceful coexistence.

“I was unaware you had any education in architecture, Sergeant. Your opinion, while in opposition to my own, would be welcome during future discussions regarding Mr. Stark's rebuilding project.”

_Maybe more like 80/20._

“Doubtful.” Barnes frowned at the holographic projection hovering above the table. He still needed years of therapy – maybe decades, a hobby that didn't involve murder or maiming, and getting laid wouldn't hurt either – but the man was getting better. What he went through would have killed anyone without the serum. Even with it, Sam would have expected someone with his history to be in a psychologically-induced coma. Or to have eaten a bullet. God knew Sam had seen more than enough good men and women go down that road.

“Why’s this one not split into apartments? Stark inviting some other millionaires to live in the neighborhood?” Sam watched Barnes prod at the projection, zooming in on a group of three brownstones as if he had been using touch screens and virtual technology all his life. His ease with learning new skills was almost enough to make Sam jealous of the serum. _Almost._

“Mister Stark has targeted several units of varying sizes to be offered to Avengers and support staff, as well as targeted industries such as law enforcement, education, and healthcare workers. It is the primary action step toward Miss Lewis’ recommendation for normative public interaction.” Sam raised his eyebrows at Vision’s statement. He had read the infamous thesis, and was certain Darcy Lewis was as smart about politics as Stark was about computers, but he doubted the price tag on a renovated brownstone in Park Slope was feasible for any cop or EMT. He knew he couldn’t afford it, and he had an army pension and his Avengers salary.

Vision continued, “This particular building was tentatively planned for the Bartons, but since Clint has purchased the abandoned property adjacent to the upstate Facility, the project has been tabled for the time being.” Barnes was pulling up additional information on the blueprints, contractor, and materials sourcing, frowning and making notes of suggestions. Sam only caught a few of them. Barnes seemed to be a stickler for craftsmanship and ease of long term maintenance. “The next residence to the west is still under construction, but the upper floors are intended for Steve. The garden level unit was finished first, at Mr. Stark’s instruction, so that Miss Lewis could move in before Christmas.”

Sam felt his eyes widen involuntarily. While he had agreed with Barnes that Darcy Lewis and Steve were a match made in - well, either heaven or a mischievously destructive hell, the final determination remained to be seen. But they were currently out on their first date. Living in the same building could make things exceptionally awkward if it didn’t work out. Barnes’ face was inscrutable. He could have been holding in a laugh or planning on slitting Stark’s throat. “Vision,” Sam began slowly, trying to carefully phrase the idea that Stark was making a colossally huge mistake by sticking his nose into romantic affairs, “does Darcy know that her upstairs neighbor is going to be Steve?”

Vision frowned. “I don’t see how-”

“If I may interject,” Friday sounded both apologetic and admonishing, which Sam felt certain was not something an AI should able to do. Jarvis/Vision notwithstanding. _Ultron, that’s a cautionary tale people._ “I do not believe Mr. Stark intended to show Captain Rogers his new residence until it is complete. And, as you are aware Vision, Miss Lewis’ home address is considered sensitive data.”

“And it’s rude to divulge a lady’s personal information,” Barnes added in a low tone. He kept his head down, hair falling over his eyes, but his shoulders were tense and the corners of his mouth tight. Sam was more than aware of how protective Barnes was of Steve. The guy might think Darcy would be good for his friend – but there was no telling how he might react to Stark meddling in the Captain’s love life. Or worse, making a hugely inappropriate joke at Steve’s expense.

Vision sounded perturbed. “I had not considered that, Sergeant. When Miss Lewis and Captain Rogers return, I will offer my most sincere-”

“Good God man! Don’t!” The purple guy looked puzzled. Sam rubbed a hand over his face. There was a time when he thought helping veterans was the most frustrating and rewarding job he could ever have. So far, Avenging was pulling about neck and neck on personally rewarding and was light years ahead on frustrating. And he didn’t know Darcy Lewis well enough to guess how she would react, but his Mama hadn’t raised him to believe women wanted a man dictating their life choices. Life choices like having a potential sexual partner living _literally_ on top of them.

“Is this a...” Barnes was holding back laughter, gesturing at the blueprints. While Sam appreciated not having to stand between a metal-armed super soldier and Ironman during a confrontation, he wasn’t sure it was a good sign if Barnes found any of Tony Stark’s machinations humorous.

“What?” At Sam’s long-suffering question, Barnes highlighted a particular area around the staircase on the schematic. He looked, but Sam couldn’t find anything strange about it. “What?” he demanded.

“The walls Sergeant Barnes has indicated are, indeed, designed to be temporary. It is my understanding that when the Captain is ready to-”

“Vision,” Friday interrupted smoothly. Barnes was outright laughing now, rusty, deep chuckles that sounded like they came from the bottom of an unused, dry well. “Ms. Romanoff has sent an update on her mission with Ms. Maximoff, would you like me to covey it to you?”

“Mission?” If Vision had eyebrows, Sam figured they would have been furrowed at that moment. “It was my understanding they were having a girls’ night. I believed this to typically include drinks and dancing or other entertainment. Is that not...” Vision drifted away, still in conversation with Friday. Sam stepped around to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He never thought he’d see the day where he was thankful to a computer for sidelining a conversation between a man made in a lab and another made nearly unmade in one. It was something special when the most tactful person was not really a person at all. _Hell of a night_ _._

“This gonna be a thing?” Sam knocked off the cap and eyed Barnes as he took a long pull.

Barnes shrugged. “You mean Natalia’s night out? ‘Cause if it doesn’t involve at least making someone piss themselves she wouldn’t find it very entertaining.” Sam frowned and took another gulp. It was good beer, but there wasn’t enough of it in the Tower, or maybe even New York, if Cap and Stark were going to come to blows. _Again_. “I suppose you mean the brownstone. Doesn’t look like there’s an apple tree in the backyard, but otherwise it’s just about everything the punk ever wanted.”

“Apples, huh?” Sam consciously switched tracks from friend to counselor. He leaned on the counter, watching the unfocused way Barnes stared off as he remembered something. Things from before he had received the serum were still like that. Indistinct. Unpredictable. Tragically precious.

“When we were kids, we were always hungry. Just a fact – for pretty much everybody back then. Not starvin’ or nothin’, just not a lot of extras and two growin’ teenagers – not that Stevie grew all that much ‘cept his hands and feet. And ears. Jesus, that kid had ears so big a strong wind coulda blown him to Jersey.” His Brooklyn accent became more pronounced when he talked about the past. As if the recollection brought him closer to the man he had been then. _In a way, it does._

Sam waited for Barnes to continue on his own, then gently prodded, “Apples?”

“Cousins of one of his neighbors lived in the country, sent up bags and bags of apples one fall. Mrs. Rogers delivered a baby for ‘em, and they sent her home with so many she used every jar she and my ma had makin’ preserves, and there was still enough left that we made ourselves sick eatin’ ‘em. Sour little things, but we thought they were the greatest. And Stevie and I were sittin’ on the roof of his building – his belly was so full he looked like he’d been dead in the sun three days – bony ribs, pale skin, and a swollen stomach. So we were sittin’ out, too full to move, and Stevie points out a building across the street – whole thing was just one house.”

Sam could feel his own smile grow at the calm, happy look of remembrance on Barnes’ face. It was rare, even after they had worked so hard to get rid of the brainwashing. _This was what ever_ _y_ _person deserve_ _s_ _. Peace and a few minutes, at least, of happiness._

“He’d sold his first poster that week, and the agency he worked for wanted another. Paid him $25 – that was groceries for a month then, pretty good for a no name artist. So he’s feeling rich and full and the weather’s been good so he’s not hackin’ away, and he points to this big ole house and he says – ‘I ever find a girl that’ll marry me, Buck, and I’m gonna buy her a place like that, with a real bathtub and enough bedrooms that our boys and girl won’t have ta share-’ and I, I almost threw up I laughed so hard. ‘Three kids?’ I said. ‘You got the names picked out too?’ But he just kept noddin’ and smilin’ like we hadn’t had to call the priest the winter before when he was a hop and a skip from death. ‘Buck,’ he said, ‘If I could find a sweet dame that’d put up with me I’d plant an apple tree in the back yard and make her a pie every day if she wanted.’”

“Stevie was always real handy in the kitchen,” Barnes continued quietly. The memory was over, but a soft half smile remained, so Sam reached into the fridge and got another beer for himself and one for Barnes. A metal thumb flicked off both caps with little effort.

“So you don’t think this is going to blow up on everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about you-” Stark’s voice had Sam tensing and straightening slowly.

He was standing between the elevator and the kitchen, his bare feet leaving greasy smears on the floor, the ragged hems of his jeans dripping oil. He had a rag in hand, but it had fallen forgotten to his side as he shifted in place.

Sam’s eyes cut from one man to the other, although he kept his arms loose and his words light. “Didn’t know you were home, Tony. Rhodey here too? You guys want to watch a movie?” Barnes remained where he was, but alert in a way that made Sam expect he hadn’t heard Tony approach. _That must have been one hell of a memory._

Stark continued, “-but I wasn’t planning on telling him anything at all. Either Captain Stick-Up-His-Ass screws up the best shot he’s got at sex on the regular and I move Lewis to another place – or he manages to keep his mouth closed long enough for her to take charge and then I will have earned a very well-deserved thank you from the rest of the Outlaw Gang for getting you some R and R. So either way, shut your fucking face holes and if you want to help by your golden boy toy, get him some aftershave that was made in this century. And none of us are watching a movie in here. The space is reserved. For someone I like better than you. And her date. Whom I don’t like at all. So go find a shuffle board somewhere. Or I am sure there is a government in Southeast Asia that you and Go-Go-Gaget-Arm could overthrow, if you can’t find anything else to do on a Saturday night.”

“Sorry, Tony,” Sam continued as if the older man wasn’t looking a little pale and wide-eyed. He purposefully made his breathing deep and obvious. Stark scowled at him knowingly, but his own shallow huffs began to slow. “We can get out of your hair. It’s your place. I brought back a couple of old movies for Barnes and Vision. We can go to one of our rooms to watch.” Stark looked mutinous and opened his mouth - ready with another pithy remark Sam was sure.

“Clint and Sam are trying to help Sergeant Barnes decide on a favorite action genre actor. I have expressed interest in their discussion.” Vision glided back into the kitchen, his questions about the nature of a girls’ night apparently resolved. As if the typical women going clubbing were an ageless assassin and a mystical witch. _Their evening is more likely to involve actual weapon clubs than fruity cocktails._

“Who are you considering?” Stark still looked irritated and itching for a fight.

Sam edged between Stark and Barnes, ostensibly to poke at the projection. He was fairly certain everyone there knew what he was doing. Even Vision. Probably even Friday. “Clint has some sort of bromance from beyond the grave with Bruce Lee. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he had never even seen the _Shaolin_ _Temple_ trilogy. Clearly, Jet Li is better. I’ve been trying to get someone who hasn’t taken one too many punches to the head to come to the right side with me.”

“That’s because you’re wrong, Dodo. _Fist of Legend_ has nothing on the original.” Tony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Sam desperately wanted to glance at Barnes and make a crack about a furious fist, but he kept his gaze on Stark. “Did your fearless, patriotic leader refuse to take sides or what?”

“He said something about Michelle Yeoh and challenging industry stereotypes.” Sam took another drink of beer.

Stark snorted. “Of course he did. All-American feminist.” He paused. “Friday, strike that from the record. Pepper shall never hear this conversation. Or read it. Or have it transferred into her subconscious via Kabuki pantomime while she sleeps. No knowledge of it shall be had by her. At all. You three-” Stark didn’t stop for air, but gestured to the room in general while he pulled a bottle of water and a container of mixed nuts and berries from the refrigerator. “My screening room. Now. This is the type of gross malfeasance in cinema education that leads to the rise of anarchy. And not the cool kind either, the shitty Kurt Russell kind. Unbelievable,” Stark muttered as he marched to the elevator. “You have a mostly-fried communist brain on your hands, ripe for potential partial reformation or at least house-training and you try to cram this complete bullshit down- hey!”

Sam tried to gain control of the situation, “Tony, I think-”

“Friday has more important things to do than hold the doors for you! Get in here so I can explain why you are so wrong – and, I can’t believe I am fucking saying this – why Clint fucking bird brain Barton is right. Friday! Strike that! Is Mrs B in the tower? Is she online? Can she omnisciently determine when I am accurately but fervently degrading her husband? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He muttered under his breath, “Woman could pitch for the Yankees. It could only improve their stats.”

“They don’t deserve her,” Barnes said lowly, so quiet that Stark couldn’t hear. Vision headed to the elevator and Sam reluctantly followed, Barnes trailing behind. “Bombers, egh, more like Bronx Bleeders.”

Sam grabbed another beer, even though he hadn’t finished the one in his hand, and walked with a sense of unavoidable doom toward the impatiently waiting Tony Stark. He hoped Steve was having a hell of a good date, because that asshole was going to owe him big for refereeing what was sure to be a shitshow. The insults disguised as overtures of acceptance, or maybe overtures disguised as insults – Sam wasn’t certain, kept coming.

“Hurry up, Sykes. You and Tinkerbell over there are are about to be schooled.”

He should have stayed in Virginia with his mom. Hell, even girls’ night was less likely to result in injury and the destruction of personal property. Sam held his unopened beer to his temple to stave off a headache. _Help the Avengers,_ he reminded himself. _You owe it to Captain America._ He side-eyed Barnes, the irritating, broken, and stoic idiot best friend of Sam’s best friend. _Steve better get a kiss out of this. With tongue. Maybe even second base._

He upgraded their odds to 70/30. _Worst group therapy idea ever._


	5. The Last Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end to the First Date, but I think there might be one more chapter to tie up a few things in Lee v Li. Please let me know what you think. And thanks for sticking with me!

**January 8, 2017**

“Another movie?” Darcy raised an eyebrow and sat in the center of Tony’s couch, twisting to look over the back and into the kitchen. Steve was getting bottles of water for them. She watched unabashedly as he bent to lean into the refrigerator. The man had an ass. And back. And shoulders. Pretty much all of the parts. It was like looking at an artist’s rendering of the ideal human form.

Darcy was pretty sure she would have jumped his bones even when he was 110 pounds and wheezing with asthma just for the way he said things like ‘freedom and power come with responsibility’ in that serious, deep voice. She had once given the Captain of the Culver debate team the best orgasm of his life after he successfully argued that economic imperialism was a lasting harbinger of world peace. And that guy had the bone structure of a malnourished crane. The nose of one too.

“Final Stage of my plan to date Darcy Lewis,” he said, turning with a smile.

 _Yeah_. Pre-serum Steve she would have tossed on her couch and done all the heavy lifting, and pumping, and squeezing so he wouldn’t strain his heart too much; she would have worked that skinny, beautiful man over for hours just so he’d smile like that and whisper how _nice_ it was. Post-serum Steve was making it difficult not to order him to strip down so she could just _lick_. Darcy was trying to appear ladylike. Show a little decorum. Some restraint. Display a little respect for the man so he wouldn’t assume she was just about his body.

“Anticipating mission success?” She really hadn’t intended anything suggestive, but by the color of his ears she guessed it hadn’t sounded that way.

“Won’t know until the end.” His eyes widened suddenly and he hurriedly continued, “And I find out if I get a second date. That would, that would be success. A second date.” He winced, and she laughed. It was a wickedly devastating combination: hot body, pretty face, and there he was trying so damn hard when he definitely didn’t need to.

She let him stew in the awkwardness for a moment, admiring the folded sleeves of his button-down and the fit of his jeans before she took pity on him. “So, what’s playing tonight?”

He settled carefully in next to her, placing their water on the coffee table. She hadn’t left him much room; his thigh brushed against her curled up legs and his elbow touched her waist. “ _Sha_ _o_ _lin Temple_.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize this was a theme date night. Just so you know in case you were thinking of a follow up with kung fu lessons or something, that’s not the kind of sweating I do on a first date.” Darcy waited to see how he would react. His eyes widened, he glanced her way. He blushed a little and swallowed hard. Then, he grinned. God, that smile really did it for her. More even than that ass.

“Friday,” he called out, “would you pull up the movie please?” As casually as if he had done it a million times, which Darcy highly doubted, Steve put his arm over her shoulders. “I thought I’d save street fighting demonstrations until at least date five. Teaching you new moves seems like a commitment sort of thing.”

The lights dimmed and Darcy snuggled in, not bothering to suppress a smirk when he tensed at the feeling of soft girl pressed all along his side. “Steve, sweetie,” she murmured, knowing he would have no trouble hearing her, “I’ve got all the moves you’ll ever need.”

The movie was fine, might have been great, if Darcy could have focused on it. As it turned out, Steve talked during movies. He hadn’t at the theater, out of nerves or respect for the other patrons she wasn’t sure, but there was nothing holding him back in Tony’s living room. He made jokes about over dramatization. He pointed out flaws in fight scenes and admired Jet Li’s abilities – clearly Steve was seeing more than she was with his experience and enhanced eyesight. He questioned historical accuracy. That pretty much sealed the deal for her. Sure, she could watch _24_ and roll with the idea of a cell phone rigged to hijack the nation’s power distribution system, but the level of personal hygiene in _The Mummy_ was too much for her. Steve also teased her, although she didn’t think it was on purpose.

His long fingers would begin rubbing gently on her shoulder, then he would pick up a lock of hair and play with it. Then he would lean over and almost rest his cheek on her head, realize what he was doing, and sit up straighter – which only shifted her deeper into the dent his weight made in the cushions. A few minutes later it would start over again. By the time the credits rolled, she was practically in his lap, his right hand twined together with hers and his left wrapped firmly around her upper arm.

“Okay. Now that I’ve softened you up,” he began, and for a surreal moment Darcy thought he was going to invite her back to his place. She was not at all ashamed to think that she’d probably say yes. At least, she would really, really want to. “You have to answer a question for me. No pressure, just the foundation of the team and our ability to work together to save the world at stake here.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, wrestling with whether she was disappointed or not, “if that’s all...”

“Best action star?” Darcy raised her eyebrows and Steve drank the last of his water. “It’s a long story, but I’ll sum up by saying it’s a been a dragged out and tiresome debate. There have been exhibits. Graphs. A _memo_. A year with Clint and Sam has left me desperate for resolution on this issue. So I turned to the expert.”

“Darcy Lewis. International Diplomacy Expert, Mediator to the Supers, and Movie Critic. You have come to the right place, Captain Rogers.” She pushed herself up and cleared her throat while she tried to untangle the soft, warm, squishy feelings of relaxing against Steve with the reality of good dating protocol. Generally speaking, sex on the first date didn’t end well. And given Darcy’s history and the honest, actual desire for things to end well – or maybe not at all- _did my heart just skip? Am I getting enough oxygen to my brain because clearly I’m not thinking clearly._ _Or at all. Clearly._ She needed all the help she could get.

“Parameters first. Is this question sub-genre specific, or are we reaching into the _B_ _o_ _u_ _rne_ series and space flicks as well?” It was another thirty minutes before he helped her with her coat and led her to the elevator.

“You’re sure I can’t take you home?”

From any other guy, that line would have been cajoling and insinuating. Steve seemed both genuinely distressed that he couldn’t see her safely inside her own door and manfully trying to repress any social customs that would be labeled as old-fashioned or sexist. Not because he wanted her to sleep with him – although she hoped to God he did or wearing her ninety-eight dollar bra was a complete waste – but because he understood feminism and independence and he agreed that she was capable in this new century of taking care of herself. He looked like a delicious mess. Hopeful, eager, earnest, and honest. It certainly didn’t hurt that his hair was sticking up where her fingers had played with it through half the movie.

 _Risk equals reward_ , she reminded herself. “Friday, hold the elevator please.”

“Certainly, Darcy. Please let me know when you would like to resume.”

“Darcy?” His eyes were so blue. It was ridiculous. Since the first time she had heard him speak, post-thaw, she had been half in-lust with the man. He was hot, no one was arguing that, least of all Darcy, but lots of men were hot. She had lived with _Thor_ – exposure 24/7 had given her a pretty strong immunity response to hot. When she had read Steve’s speech from the Triskellion, even in transcript form he had just about melted her panties. Darcy was twisted. She knew that about herself. Give her a man with brains, a strong moral code, and a sense of responsibility and she’d ride that like there would be a trophy at the end – regardless of looks. Hence, the crane-nosed debate captain.

Then, she met Steve in person and her Thor-immunity began to waiver. In-person, he wasn’t just hot. He was warm to the touch, hard all over, and those blue eyes conveyed concern and compassion straight to her, well, parts that probably shouldn’t get that excited about compassion. Finally, she got to know him, and he was nice. And funny. Not funny like Tony with his crass jokes or Thor with his outrageous stories. Sly and quietly dry and so fucking sneaky with his humor that she wanted to laugh and take his pants off at the same time. Most men tended to be a little put off by that combination, though.

She had wanted the date, was pretty sure they would have a good time. Maybe even a great time. She was not prepared to want it to just _keep going_.

“Steve,” she said seriously, “Tony knows I had arranged for car service. If I cancel it, tomorrow he’s going to ask why, and no matter what you or I say, he’s going to make some insinuations.”

“I’ll-”

She cut him off, tugging his hand and pivoting until the were facing each other, less than a foot between them. “More importantly, I am a big girl who can look out for herself and am smart enough not to give out my home address on a first date.”

“I would-”

“Most importantly,” she interrupted again with a squeeze of his hand before his worried frown could become deeper, “I think if I have you on my doorstep with my tongue in your mouth we’d both have to depend on your good manners to make sure you don’t spend the night.” His frown melted away and his eyes darkened. Darcy felt an answering pull low in her belly.

“Probably not all that dependable at the moment.” He squeezed her hand and pulled her a little closer. His gaze flicked between her eyes and her mouth. She sucked in a breath, feeling her pulse quicken and wondering if he could tell.

“I’d rather not say goodnight at the car either. Even in the garage there will be the driver and the security guard and anyone else who pays to park down there.”

“Okay.” He looked almost sad, and Darcy was torn between amusement and frustration.

“Steve. I stopped the elevator. You really do half to meet me halfw-”

His lips were on hers before she could finish. He was warm, delightfully warm and firm. He brushed his mouth against her softly then with more pressure, his free hand coming to grip her waist. The first touch of his tongue and she welcomed him in. Her right hand ran up his arm to his shoulder, squeezing the muscle there. He flexed under her palm and it sent a tingling shock down her spine. Her grasp slid to the bare skin of his neck, hot compared to her perpetually cold fingers. He moaned into her and pulled her closer when her nails scraped against the short hair at the back of his head. His tongue was everywhere. Testing the feel of her inner cheeks, teasing her own tongue to explore, dancing along her lower lip in a prelude to the barest hint of teeth.

When he straightened at last, they were both breathing hard, and she was dazed enough that it took her a moment to realize she was standing on her tiptoes and that she had evidence he was quiet obviously enjoying their activities as much as she was. Darcy abruptly rocked onto her heels.

“Well fuck me,” she breathed out in dazed surprise. He laughed. It was a short, shocked burst of air and sound that stirred the hair on the top of her head. She looked up, an embarrassed blush heating her cheeks. She hadn’t quite meant to say it that way. He was even redder than her, but his wide grin set it off nicely.

“But we already agreed I wasn’t going to take you home. I could never live with myself if I was responsible for starting gossip about my girl and trampling gender equality all in one evening.”

“I think I could manage,” Darcy got out past the smile that was curling her own mouth. Her lips still felt hot and tender and she desperately wanted more. “But I suppose it is important to set a good example.”

Steve gently pushed her away, but interlaced their fingers. He pointedly looked around the elevator. “An example for whom, exactly?”

“All the good little girls and boys,” she replied promptly. “And Friday. Look at what she has been leaning from, she needs a wider pool of data or she’ll never know how normal people behave.”

“Normal people?” Steve was still smiling

“More normal than Tony. And I think Vision and Wanda are operating on a whole ‘nother level. Friday, we’re ready to go down now, if you please.”

“Yes, Darcy.”

“So,” Steve broke the silence as they slowed for the public garage levels. “Mission success?”

Darcy laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much on a date. “I think we both deserve a second date. But I get to plan the next one – that’s only fair.” He followed her out of the elevator and to the waiting town car, waving off the driver who was ready to open the door for her. He did it himself.

“Fair is my middle name, Miss Lewis.”

She used the car as a step stool and leaned in for one last quick kiss. “Pretty sure it’s Grant,” she murmured, liking the way his eyes had gone dark again. “If I don’t see you on Monday, I’ll text you with date details.” He leaned in again, but rather than kiss her he lifted her hands from the door frame and gently backed her into her seat, making sure she didn’t bump her head.

“Thank you, Darcy. I had a wonderful time. And I look forward to seeing you again.” His serious words, the almost reverent way he was looking at her made the warm knot of want between her thighs ache. Her heart wasn’t far behind, and Darcy had to physically put a hand to her chest to remind herself not to get carried away. _It’s one date, get a grip Lewis!_ He actually pressed his mouth to the back of her hand before settling it in her lap.

“Steve,” her voice was far too husky, “shut the damn door before I start some gossip.” She swore she was halfway to Brooklyn before she stopped replaying his last laugh. It was a long, long time past that before she stopped replaying the kiss. And it wasn’t until the next morning that she thought to wonder how serious he was about calling her his girl.


	6. Black and White, Surround Sound, and High Definition

**January 9, 2017**

 

Barnes didn’t turn on the light as he entered the apartment he was temporarily sharing with Steve. He didn’t have to since the light over the stove was on, illuminating the kitchen and several cooling racks of pastries. The sink was piled with dirty dishes – apparently waking up in the future with conveniences like a dishwasher still had not converted Steve Rogers into anything resembling tidy. Barnes sighed and stepped up to the counter, shoving up his sleeves. He wouldn’t be able to sleep for a few hours, so he might as well take care of the mess.

Across the wide island, seated in the living area, was his best friend. Steve had a sketchbook open on his lap, but he was staring out the huge windows at the city lights.

“Was this celebratory baking or consolation baking?”

Steve half jumped out of his chair and Barnes raised an eyebrow. They both had better than normal hearing thanks to the serum; Steve must have been so deep in his thoughts he was half-way to China.

“Oh, hey, Buck. Ah, both, maybe.” He ran a hand through his hair and tossed his drawing materials onto the coffee table. The pencil rolled off the edge and Steve ignored it as he stood and moved to a bar stool. Barnes tried to remind himself to look for the damn thing before one of Stark’s robots tried to vacuum it up. Pencil lead probably wasn’t good for the little contraptions. How any man had gone through the army and come out bordering on slob was a mystery to Barnes. At least Steve made his bed in the morning now – but that was where his housekeeping skills ended.

“Gotta say, pal. If you’re not sure if the date was a success, that’s kind of a problem.” He rinsed bowls and spatulas and kept one eye on Steve. The punk didn’t look sad, but he was definitely concentrating suspiciously hard for someone who had spent the evening snuggled up with a soft thing like Darcy Lewis.

“Success, yeah, it was that.” Finally, a smile turned his mouth. As if a dam had broken, happiness washed over Steve’s face. “She’s planning the next date.”

“So? Why the dark brooding? Sounds like a good thing.”

“Yeah.” _Christ_. Steve looked half in love all ready. The last time Barnes had seen him so wrapped up in a dame had been in 1940 and that gal had knocked out Steve’s heart like she was Joe Louis at Yankee Stadium. In comparison, his feelings for Peggy Carter had been all pre-match hype. “It’s just...”

Barnes finished with the dishes and began wiping down the counter while he waited for Steve to get out with it.

“You ever turn a girl down, Buck? Other than that lady at Melson’s – the one with the-”

Barnes snorted, the memory coming back to him grainy, but still there. “With the horse face? Not that I recall, but I suppose that doesn’t mean much. You’d know better than me.” He paused, taking in the way Steve was rubbing at his pant leg, mouth smiling but shoulders tensed. “You ever turn a girl down, Steve?”

“Loads.” His face twisted, and Barnes could read that expression well. Disgust, guilt, and maybe a little bit of second-guessing. “When I was on tour...well, thank god for the chorus girls. Three of ‘em were married to guys overseas and they took it as a real personal insult if some gal tried to sneak into my dressing room.”

Barnes couldn’t help it, he laughed. All those years trying to set up his friend, working so hard to find the right kind of girl for Stevie and listening to his weak little romantic heart thrum at the idea of falling in love and having a family, all that and as soon as the ladies would give him a second look he was beating them off with a stick.

“Ain’t funny, jerk. Those women were vicious. There was one lady – in Missouri, I think – she pretended to be working at the theater, lead me to a storage room, locked the door and dropped her dress.” Barnes was gasping for air, imagining poor Steve faced with a naked, willing woman but too proper to do anything about it without buying her dinner first. “Just about climbed up me trying for a kiss. When I said no she bit me – drew blood!”

“Not so bad,” Barnes managed to force out the words past his chuckles, “with the right lady.” Steve was muttering and shaking his head, but he was still smiling, the back of his neck pink. “I take it what has you concerned is a little more recent that your USO days?”

“I just don’t want to – Sharon was pretty forward. Which is fine, good to know what a lady wants.” Barnes made a noise of agreement and Steve pushed on. “But it was...well, difficult to feel comfortable about that when you’re comparing her to someone else, right?”

“I’ve dated sisters.” Barnes stopped in surprise, verifying in his own head that the words that popped out of his mouth were actual fact. Equally pleased and perturbed by his own apparent charm, he continued, “but never aunt and niece. I could see where that might get a bit...dicey.” He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. It was nice to be talking about Steve’s problems for a change. Problems that would be fairly easy to solve, if the conversation was going where he thought it was.

“I really like her, Buck.” It took everything Barnes had not to roll his eyes and parrot Sam with a _duh, idiot_. “I know things are different now, more casual, but she’s important and I don’t want her to think that I just...and it’s been a while. A long while.”

“How long we talkin’? And let’s say before Sharon, how long?” Steve mumbled, and Bucky heard, but there was something to be said for inflicting embarrassment on a friend. “What was that?”

“You heard me, jackass.”

Just to string Steve out, he changed the subject. “What kind of fruit in these?” Barnes pointed to the pastries.

“Raspberry on your left. Sausage and green apple on your right. You gonna say anything helpful, or just eat my hard work and laugh at me?”

“I ain’t known her long,” the burr of Brooklyn tumbled from his lips and it felt right to Barnes, “but I’d guess Darcy is the type to tell you what she wants pretty clear. And to ‘ppreciate you doing the same. Nothin’ wrong with fessin’ up and still havin’ to wait a while, if that’s the way it goes. And she seems to have a thing for mooks with their feet in their gob.” He picked up a breakfast pastry and took a bite. It was still hot inside, almost too hot, and steam rose from the flaky crust. The smell of sweet sausage and tart apples was strong.

Steve blew out a long breath, and with it a lot of tension. “How was your night?”

“Watched a couple of Li movies with Wilson and Vision. And Stark.”

“Building’s still standing,” Steve noted.

“Hm. Been called worse names by better looking faces. Maybe none I deserved as much.”

“I have it on good authority that Tony doesn’t know any other way. It’s how he makes friends.”

“Not looking to be his friend.” Barnes grabbed a second pastry, Steve really did know his way around the kitchen. “Just don’t want it to tear apart your team.”

“Not just my team, Buck.”

Barnes stepped out of the way while Steve packaged up all the food. He was contemplating a glass of milk as Steve said goodnight and a memory clicked into place.

“1941? Bethany O’Malley.” She was a little fast and a lot friendly. He remembered the double date, two blondes but not the color of their eyes or dresses. Bethany’s friend faked a stomach ache within fifteen minutes of seeing Steve. He remembered Bethany confidently grabbing both men by the arms and taking the night by storm. He remembered she asked herself up for _coffee_ , and while he had his hand tangled in her garters she had whispered a dirty suggestion in his ear and then called out for Steve. The skinny punk had crashed into the bedroom looking like he was expecting a fire. When met with a half-naked woman he had turned bright red. Her request of him had just about started an actual fire on his cheeks.

“Oh, God!” Barnes laughed. He dropped the milk onto the counter, hearing the plastic crack but he didn’t care. He’d clean it up later. “Oh God! You had an asthma attack! While she was-”

“Shut the fuck up, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With all of the bad, surely there had to be some good for Bucky to remember. And what two men have ever had a conversation about relationships without resorting to name-calling? I hope you liked it!


End file.
